Pump It Up
by karaokegal
Summary: Jack has some fun while saving the world. What was really going on during a certain scene in "Journey's End." Mostly fun wank!fic with a bit of Jack/Doctor angst, but mostly Jack/TARDIS.


"Pump that. Keep pumping and don't stop until it's done."

Jack looked at the Doctor, wondering if it was possible for someone so brilliant to be quite so oblivious to what he appeared to be suggesting, as he placed Jack's hand around the end of a knob sticking out of the TARDIS console.

Did he honestly not know about the surge of energy that Jack felt coming from the ship at the moment of contact, that immediately started a low, sensual hum throughout his body.

The Doctor could be a master of deliberate obtuseness when it served his purposes, so Jack just shrugged and proceeded to follow the directions. _You want pumping? I'll give you pumping._

Maybe the Doctor didn't really know what was going on, but the TARDIS certainly did. They were locked in a completely sensual, nonverbal communication, where Jack could tell that this action, so familiar to him, was giving the TARDIS pleasure, as well as the energy to carry the planet Earth back to its proper place in the universe.

_Yeah, baby,_ he thought, picking up the pace, sharing the eroticism, wondering if the others in contact with the TARDIS were feeling the same thing. He looked around, at Martha and Mickey and Donna and Rose. They were all engrossed in the excitement of saving the world, but none of them seemed to be experiencing the kind of blissful connection that he was, and of course, none of their assignments in driving the TARDIS had the same lewd connotations as his pumping, which was growing in speed and intensity as they hurtled back toward the Milky Way with their precious cargo in tow.

_So good!_

Jack couldn't tell if it was his thought or that of the TARDIS. He hadn't got an erection, but his whole body felt charged, as though the ship were pumping him as much as he was pumping it. He spread his legs slightly and braced himself, tensing his buttocks, exactly as he would if he were having intercourse, thinking that this was a new one, even for him. Whatever issues the Doctor had about Jack's condition, they weren't stopping the TARDIS from enjoying the interaction with him. _Slut_, he thought and wondered if it was possible for a time machine to giggle.

He felt the ship picking up speed, and then he heard the Doctor shouting, "Hold on everyone. Almost there!"

Jack kept going, faster than he could even think about what he was doing, until his hand nearly went numb feeling the ship and himself heading for completion at the same time, and only when he saw familiar stars and felt his whole body convulse with release was he able to stop moving, although he kept his hand around the lever, feeling the equivalent of a hot cock throbbing through orgasm against his skin.

_Was it good for you, too?_

Okay, maybe the words were lost on the machine, but the feelings were real. Jack had experienced sex with too many life-forms to count and had it in more positions than the average contortionist would ever assume, but doing it standing up, in conjunction with a ship that travelled in Time and Space with at least eight other people present, and no actual erection was certainly one for that book he'd probably never write.

The massive festival of hugging that broke out afterwards functioned as the best damn afterglow he'd ever had. Even if he was no longer in physical contact with the TARDIS, he could still _feel_ it, and wondered what the Gallifreyan equivalent of having a cigarette might be, and whether it applied to their technology.

The only thing better than giving the TARDIS a hand job would be getting what he really wanted from the Doctor, especially now that there were three of them. It was still a mind-boggling notion. He settled for a hug from the original, recognisable by his brown suit and lack of ginger hair and tits. The Doctor was doing an especially good job of hiding his intrinsic distaste for Jack's wrongness, and Jack decided to be grateful for small mercies. He had the comfort of knowing that particular beef was the Doctor's alone. He and the TARDIS had buried the hatchet, if it had ever existed. Maybe the Doctor wasn't so oblivious after all.

"Nice work, Jack," the Doctor said, offering up the praise along with one of his best smiles. He really was trying, Jack realised. That made it better and worse at the same time.

"Sort of a familiar action," he remarked, enjoying his brief physical contact with the Doctor, even while he knew he was seeking clarification. Of course Jack had spent many years waiting for answers from the Doctor and they were never _exactly_ what he needed. This one was no exception.

"You were just the man for the job."


End file.
